Chapter 32
Icount the round tunnel entrances. There are four before the pass bends, and who knows how many more are beyond that.
“So this is how this pass stayed a secret,” I remark, feeling grim. “We’ll be dinner before we reach the other side.”
Auri glances at a weather-worn symbol carved in the stone before us. It’s a skull and crossbones.
Four decades ago, a lindwyrm migrated to a cave outside a village near Nettlerock.
Dad was a child then and had seen the wreckage firsthand.
Trees smashed aside like twigs. Homes crushed.
Regurgitated bones littered the path to its den.
The village lost all its cattle and five people before the Queen listened to their pleas and sent two dozen men to slay it. A third of them didn’t walk away.
“Mordrak is looking pretty good right now,” Finnian remarks. “I’d rather get a scrumptious soup there than become soup in some beast’s belly.” He brushes his hair back, then takes a step toward the carriage. “What do you say, Dez?”
Desmond examines the sight before us with the shrewdness of a tactician. “We risk it. I know we brought forged papers for Mordrak as a contingency, but we all know they won’t suffice under scrutiny. It’s either the lindwyrm or Mordrak’s prison.”
“What if there’s more than one wyrm?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “They don’t live in close proximity to each other, and it’s not mating season. Those tunnels belong to one.”
“One is ample cause for concern,” Min says. “We do not possess the ideal Gifts for slaying one, nor a substantial advantage in numbers.”
“How reassuring,” I mutter. At least someone’s addressing the facts.
“What else do you know about lindwyrms?” Auri asks Desmond. “Any weaknesses?”
He rocks back on his heels, thinking. “They use vibrations as sensory stimuli and can detect them through the air. That’s why there are no birds here.
Their mobility is enhanced by their two clawed feet, and despite being venomous, they swallow their prey whole.
As for weaknesses. . .” He tilts his head, his curls shifting across his forehead.
“Those are usually deduced when encounters with them are survived.”
“Which is seldom,” I surmise.
“Quiet,” Auri snaps at me. “Your quips are making it hard for the adults to think.”
“Excuse me?” Her words sting even though I shouldn’t care what she thinks. Everyone else falters like they’re sensing a storm. “At least I don’t have a stick up my ass,” I snipe back.
“Enough.” Desmond steps between us. “Auri, you don’t tell Finnian off for his quips.”
“That’s because he’s one of us!” She dismisses me with a dramatic swerve of her head, then looks at Desmond. Their gazes silently communicate in a way that only a deep bond allows. For a heartbeat, I’m envious.
Desmond sighs. “We’re running out of daylight. Three of us will ride in the carriage. One will lead on horseback. The fifth will take the rear as a lookout.”
Auri nods. “I’ll take the rear.”
“I’ll lead,” Desmond says, and I get the sense he was set on it before announcing the plan. “Let’s get into position.”
I fist my hands, wishing I were strong enough to take the rear. Yet I can’t even dream of surpassing a fae. Auri is lithe, has decades of training to surpass mine, and she’s a Great. I’ll always be an Average, no matter how much I train.
When I get into the carriage, my turmoil must be visible because Finnian whistles low as he and Min enter behind me. “Don’t worry. She tells me to shut up occasionally,” he says.
“You know it’s not the same,” I snap.
He startles. “What?”
I force my breathing to slow. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s just. . . Is she like this toward all humans? Or just me?”
Finnian’s gloves squeak as his hands fidget. He lowers his voice. “All of them, I suppose. You don’t easily forget being hunted and tortured by another kingdom.”
His words stun me, and suddenly I don’t feel so affronted. I know she’s bitter about the war and that she’s part of Deitra’s forbidden army, but to be hunted and tortured. . . I shudder. No wonder she hates humans.
“Fall silent,” Desmond calls out from the horses. “I’m bringing us into the pass.”
Min stares out the window with feline stillness.
Auri walks behind the carriage as the horses tread at a slow pace.
I don’t like Desmond’s plan. If the lindwyrm is sensitive to vibrations, every creak of our carriage wheels and the heavy clop of hooves will be enough to alert one, no matter how slow we travel.
We should’ve found another way to cross the Krelthar Mountains.
My shoulders tense as I recite a prayer to Elowyn. I’ve never put much faith in devotions, but gods, if this isn’t the time for some divine intervention.
On the left side of the path is a deep ditch, wavering between steep slopes and sheer drops.
Our right is blocked by the towering mountainside.
I hold my breath as we pass the first four tunnels.
When we round the bend, and nothing rushes out, I dare to hope.
Maybe it’s not hungry. Maybe Elowyn listened to my prayers.
A crack echoes, followed by the horses’ panicked cries. The carriage jostles. What happened? I lean out the window and look ahead. The left stretch of the path is eroded underneath Aether’s front hoof.
“It heard,” Min murmurs.
“What heard?” Finnian asks, his hushed voice squeaky.
A low hiss prickles my skin. From a tunnel on our right, a sound like shifting gravel echoes.
“Auri, get in the carriage!” Desmond shouts.
“I can get a clear shot here!” she argues.
We won’t be alive long enough for it to matter. If we don’t move, we won’t be utilizing the one advantage we have—speed.
The beast bursts out of the tunnel, rock and debris tumbling.
It’s gigantic, with the head of a dragon and the body of a serpent.
Two clawed legs extend from its front half, bracing its weight against the mountainside.
It rears back, neck undulating, and screeches so loud that it thrums through my chest.
“Shit!” Finnian yelps.
Auri shoots. The arrow harmlessly plinks against its brown scales, but the lightning she calls to it would be lethal to a lesser beast. The lindwyrm flinches, a patch of its scales now blackened and smoking. Its reptilian eyes narrow on Auri in rage.
“If I can strike inside its mouth, it’s as good as dead,” she calls out.
Good as dead? We’re dead once it reaches us. I don’t care how powerful she thinks she is. This beast isn’t a draugr or a fomorian. It’s an infallible predator.
I lean out the window and yell to Auri, “Climb the carriage!”
She ignores me, aiming her bow.
“Climb, or we’re leaving you behind!” I warn.
She tenses, then sprints toward us. I focus on the reins in Desmond’s hand. One whip of my magic, and I crack them hard. The horses bolt, their hooves thundering, dust rising into dangerously obscuring clouds.
“Cyn!” Desmond shouts in reprimand, but I trust myself. This is the right plan.
Auri swears from the carriage’s hind ledge as the wheels bump hard enough to jerk our chins. She made it.
The ground shakes as the lindwyrm smacks itself against the mountainside. Dislodged boulders roll toward us. One hits the path ahead with a heavy tremor, and the horses rear back.
My blood runs cold as the lindwyrm climbs onto the path, swatting the boulder away with its giant head. A chortle rumbles deep in its throat. It grins, bearing fangs dripping with venom.
To my horror, Desmond jumps off Enbarr and cuts the horses loose. Enbarr runs back the way we came. Aether hesitates, his ears flattening as he bares his teeth at the beast.
The lindwyrm strikes, its jaw unhinging before it snaps around Aether in one bite. It swallows. The large lump of Aether’s body slides down its massive throat.
Finnian sucks in a breath. “Shit. He was my favorite horse.”
“It is time to fight,” Min says. She opens the hatch beneath our feet and dispenses weapons.
Desmond throws the carriage door open, takes his sword from her, and looks at me. “How this ends depends on you. Will you listen to me?”
There isn’t time to debate it. One heartbeat. One breath. “Yes.” Somehow that admission feels more dangerous than the lindwyrm roaring before us.
“Then let me take the lead.” His hazel eyes shine, the golden-brown of dappled sunlight on soil and the green of whispering summer leaves. So much assurance, so much faith in me.
I nod as my stomach somersaults. Then I grab my bow and quiver, and I follow everyone out of the carriage. There’s no time to be flustered. Distraction is just as dangerous as fear.
The lindwyrm rears back, head swaying as it watches us. I get the sense it hasn’t attacked yet because it’s biding its time, toying with us.
“What’s the plan?” I ask.
“Launch me.” Desmond unsheathes his sword and jumps atop the boulder on the path. He looks at me in expectation.
When I realize what he wants, I almost hesitate. He’s crazy, and crazy just might work. I draw a deep breath and thread magic through my veins. If I miss, the fall will kill him. I let just a whisper of fear out of my mental bottle, enough that I wait for the right moment.
The lindwyrm rears back to charge. Now.
I lift the boulder, pull it down, and slam it up like a spring. Desmond flies through the air, landing with enviable finesse atop the lindwyrm’s back.
“Min, Finnian, we need its mouth wide open. Cyn, help Auri!” he shouts. He runs along the spiked ridges of the lindwyrm’s spine, then jumps its whipping tail as it tries to smack him off. It spits poison onto its own scales in an attempt to strike him. The globs hiss and smoke.
“I don’t need your help,” Auri tells me as she readies her bow. “Stay out of my way.”
Clenching my dagger is the only thing that stops me from saying, Sure, fight it on your own! and leaving her side. As much as I might fantasize about a monster biting her in two, I’d rather survive. She’s our best chance against the lindwyrm. I glare at her. “Desmond told me to stay with you.”